


When We Get To Coney Island

by DragonWilliams



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Civil War (Marvel), LIKE A LOT OF ANGST, M/M, Spoiler Alert! they don't get to Coney Island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 13:29:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5335820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonWilliams/pseuds/DragonWilliams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When we get to Coney Island, Stevie, I’m going to make you eat cotton candy and ride the Cyclone again. I bet even now you’d puke, Super Soldier or not. I’ll even win you the biggest stuffed animal to make up for it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	When We Get To Coney Island

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of Sebastian Stan's beautiful sad/crying face and this Tumblr post that is cancer and death: http://trashvampires.tumblr.com/post/133968983559
> 
> If you wanted to know the song I used to write this piece of crap to, I listened to End Of The Line on repeat x1000 (I hate myself more than you know). I also haven't written anything in years, so be gentle.

Everything is in slow motion with blood rushing in his ears as Bucky watches Iron Man turn his robotic red and gold arm in Steve’s direction and fire the hit; sees the repulsor blast hit Steve square in the chest, watches him fall, that god awful shield clatter to the ground. In the slow motion of the moment he sees the beginnings of the damage and the blood bloom from the star at Steve’s chest and the sick feeling of _knowing._

_Steve… get up._

_But…_

_He knew._

Iron Man, having just fired the shot, was facing Steve lying prone on the cold, frosted cement; distracted.

He fills with rage quicker than he ever remembers feeling any emotion. It’s volatile and _dangerous_ because it wasn’t just rage, its _despair_ and _pain_ and _desperation_. After only getting Steve back – his bright and shining beacon of all things _good_ – after 70 years of his own torture and fighting, he was about to lose him and he could do nothing but watch and despair.

He roars. He roars until he’s hoarse, turning his rage to the one who has taken away the only happiness and brightness he had on this miserable, death stricken earth; Iron Man. With one swift and forceful punch to the red chest plate with his metal arm, he has the momentarily distracted Iron Man stumbling back. Just as swiftly, he lunges for the glowing arc reactor – knowing subconsciously through all his anger that this is where the Iron Man suit got its power – fingers digging into to the casing with single minded determination as he screams, “ _Steve’s dead!_ ” with all the rage he can muster, feeling his eyes burn.  _Steve’s dead!_

Iron Man fell with a clang and a struggle and Bucky gets a sick satisfaction as he watched the arc reactor flicker, his metal fingers digging in deeper and the sound of metal on metal jarring, even if all he hears is the rush of blood in his ears. Iron Man bucked and punched and flailed fruitlessly in his heavy suit, too slow for the Winter Soldier and never getting a hit in. He wants to tear Tony Stark’s heart out, rip it out so that he knows what it’s like to feel this unbelievable, hollow pain.

His fingers dig even further, digging deeper into the metal flesh where they eventually get purchase around the delicate workings under the glass. He pulls with all the strength he has, gritting his teeth in a snarl as he rips the reactor from the hunk of alloy before him. The suit sputters and Bucky’s sure there’s backup power somewhere but for now, he’s content with the destruction he’s wrought. But his anger and pain still burn bright hot and he wants Tony Stark to pay for everything his dirty hands have done.

Bucky howls and punches; cries, finally letting the tears fall hot as his metal fist wrenches away red alloy, tears way Tony’s face plate so that he can face the man who did this.

“ _You_ _killed him!_ ” he screams at the man’s face, a face just like his father’s.

Tony Stark’s face is stricken and yet he hardly has a mark on him except for a bruised right eye. And for some reason that makes Bucky even angrier; this man, he hides behind his armour like a coward, never facing what must be done and saving face.

“ _Steve’s dead!_ ” he roared again before punching Tony Stark in his face, metal arm connecting with skin and bone, “And you killed him,” he growls lowly, punching the man in his face again and again and again and again.

If Tony Stark talks, Bucky doesn’t hear it over his own anger. His own emotions that consume his every move. Every year of being held captive and forced to do unspeakable things, all that time and violence seeping out into every move he makes, every hit that connects to Tony Stark’s being.

“… Bucky?”

Bucky’s metal fist stops, raised above his head for another deadly blow until the voice stops him; a wet voice, quiet voice that managed to get through the thick veil of emotions. He turns wet eyes to the prone body of Steve Rogers.

“… stop…” heavy lidded blue eyes the colour of the sky, look at him imploringly and Bucky’s face crumbles.

He makes his way to Steve, ignoring Stark completely – he doesn’t even know if he killed him or not; it’s not what matters. Bucky crumbles with a sob at Steve’s side, knees hitting the floor hard and kneeling in the slowly growing pool of Steve’s blood.

“I’m so sorry, Stevie,” he chokes, shaking blood covered hands hovering over the wound in his chest – oh god, it looks so bad. He never even thought that Steve would be okay, only focused on the vengeance that poisoned him, “I’m so sorry.”

Bucky slowly, with shaking hands, took off Steve’s helmet and threw it aside to see his grimy face. He was so beautiful; blue eyes looking at him tiredly, long eyelashes fanning his check whenever he blinked sluggishly. But he was pales… so pale and his skin going cold.

“There’s…” he coughs and blood coats his lips, Bucky wipes it away, trying to hold back his tears, “There’s nothing to be sorry… about,” he says weakly and Bucky’s face crumbles, his body caving inwards over the top of Steve’s.

“But I could’ve stopped this,” he whispers, hand pressing into the bloody and gaping wound, trying to stop the blood oozing from the 5 inch hole in Steve’s chest.

Steve just gave a small ghost of a smile and Bucky lost it again, tears falling and blurring his vision, “You’re the… gre-greatest thing to happen… in my life, James… Buchanan Barnes.”

Bucky smiled through the tears and the continual breaking of his heart, the agony in his chest unbearable.

Steve slowly placed a hand on Bucky’s face and all he could do was lean into it and kiss his palm, “I think this is the end of the line… for me, pal,” Steve croaks, coughing again.

“Don’t say that please, Stevie. We’ll get you help, you’ll be okay.”

Steve wiped away the tears that fell from Bucky’s grey-blue eyes and shook his head.

“You can’t leave,” Bucky cried softly, resting his forehead against Steve’s cold and clammy one, “I just got you back,” his voice broke on the end.

He pulled Steve into his lap; head on his thigh, trying to get him as close as possible and started stroking his hair while his metal hand kept compressing the wound. All Steve ever wanted to do was what was right and now he was paying for bringing the only good thing in this world of evil, it wasn’t fair. Steve deserved so much better than to be bleeding out in an abandoned Hydra facility, he deserved to grow old and watch the seasons pass. _It wasn’t fair._

“I’ll be here,” Steve gave a small smile, placing his hand over Bucky’s heart.

And he laughed, he laughed and cried and it _hurt_ , “you’re such a sap, Steve,” he looked at Steve’s blue eyes again and Steve laughed too, pained and quiet.

“I’m your sap, though,” he breathed with a wan smile and tears welling up in his own eyes, “at least I got to spend…. The r-rest of my life… with you,” Bucky could feel Steve’s body go into convulsions before settling down again. And Steve looked back at him with all the love he had, more love than Bucky was ever deserving of. All the blood and destruction on his hands and Steve still loves him without a shadow of a doubt, right to the end. Bucky was sure he couldn’t cry anymore but he was wrong, with tears staining his face he still managed to look Steve in the eyes steadfastly. “Why-why don’t you tell me… ab-about Coney Island,” he says weakly, eyes getting heavy but the smile still ghosting his features, “you a-always… get excited about… Coney… Island…”

Bucky gave a wet laugh, “When we get to Coney Island, Stevie, I’m going to make you eat cotton candy and ride the Cyclone again. I bet even _now_ you’d puke, Super Soldier or not. I’ll even win you the biggest stuffed animal to make up for it,” he whispers, looking out at the snowy, cold landscape outside and he’s angry that outside it’s beautiful while here in the bunker, ugly things are happening, “We could go when it’s warm and sunny and the sky is clear and go for a swim, maybe get a tan, though you’d probably burn,” he talks and talks about what they could do at Coney Island: Steve could draw the beach, they could build sand castles like when they were kids, they could do all sorts of things.

He laughs and he cries harder than he’s ever cried before, not daring to look down at Steve – he knows the dead weight in his arms, the limp hand that had slid from his neck, the stop of a strong heartbeat underneath his hand – he doesn’t want to acknowledge the painful truth. He hugs Steve to him, never wanting to let him go, closing his eyes and wishing it’d all be better, that none of this had happened, that they could’ve gone home and grown old together after the war.

Bucky could’ve gotten a job as a mechanic, or worked back down at the dock. He could’ve earnt enough for them to be happy together in their little apartment in a Brooklyn that didn’t exist anymore except as a faded memory of a place that no one else remembered but them.

But none of it would ever come true.

After a few arduous moments of stalling the inevitable, he looks down at Steve’s beautiful features with pale, tear stained cheeks, blue lips and blue, unseeing eyes. He shakily kisses Steve’s cold forehead, closes his eyes with a trembling hand and swept away the tears.

And he howls. He howls and he screams, clutching Steve to him as he sways with his suffering, until he is even hoarser, sounds ripping from his throat like an animal and making his insides bleed tar black like an infection. He screams until he can scream no more, let’s everything bleed from his lungs and curses the world for this pain and hollowness that will follow him.

**Author's Note:**

> Pft, what even is an ending.
> 
> I'm not sure how painful this was to others (whether it be the bad writing or the PAIN) but I had some sads actually writing it.
> 
> I'll see y'all in hell.


End file.
